Hide & Seek
by Jedi Cosmos
Summary: 4-year-old Harry Potter escapes his muggle wards, and he's wandering England. What happens when azkaban prisoners, werewolves, Death Eaters, Ministry officials, and the Hogwarts staff throw themselves into the fray to get him back?
1. in azkaban

Okay, well, I've started another fic.  I've always really wanted to write one with Harry as a child, and with Sirius and Remus and Snape and everyone :)  This WILL be a humor fic, trust me – I can't go without writing humor.  It will have a lot of its dark parts, though I think this was the worst of it all anyway.

This is dedicated to one of my best friends, Christy, as her birthday gift.  The whole story totally goes out to her!

Oh, and a disclaimer (and it applies to the whole fic!): I don't own anything but the plot!  And even that has touches of Monster's Inc. brushing on it, however vaguely.  Anyway….

**chapter I**

**||**

**in azkaban**

Nightmares were common in Azkaban.

_No…._

In Azkaban, everyone had them.  It was unavoidable; the Dementors made sure of it.

_Please, stop…._

In Azkaban, it was that which gave the prisoners their deadened look – the waxy skin and shuttered eyes.

_James…._

In Azkaban, no one could forget.

_Lily…._

In Azkaban, they were not prisoners to anything but their past.

_No…._

In Azkaban, everyone had scarred pasts.

_No…._

And as a result, nightmares were common in Azkaban.

***

Cornelius Fudge stormed into Azkaban, wanting to get the trip over and done with as fast as he could.  He had much bigger problems to work on, especially one that had presented itself that very day.  Not to mention that he didn't like the Azkaban guards.  No one liked the guards, and simply, no one _could_ quite like them – for they represented all the worst things in the world and inflicted a person's own terrors onto themselves.  It was horrible – but necessary; yes, very necessary, as all the prisoners of Azkaban were horrible people who had done horrible things and deserved to live horrible lives.

The routine checks were required to see how the prisoners were coming along – whether they were being controlled, going mad – which ones needed to have the burials arranged before they died, to save time when they were done wasting away – things such as that.

Cornelius stopped at each cell, peering at each prisoner – repulsed by the hideous features he could make out in the poor lighting, all the more making him wish he could leave.  He was disgusted by the wailings and shrieks and whimpers of the prisoners as much as he was disgusted by the utter silence of some, the fits of dazed staring at nothing and pressing themselves into corners.  All of them were trapped in their insanity, and it was abhorrent to see.

"Yes, yes, very well," he said to the Dementors after observing a few of the more high-security prisoners.  "Everything seems to be in order.  If I could excuse myself – "

Both of the Dementors raised their putrid hands and pointed down the hall.  They began to lead the way – and Cornelius, having very little choice in the matter, followed them down the way, his fear overwhelming his impatience.  He would do as the Dementors wanted – and leave right after.  No use getting the Dementors angry.

As they walked past the cells, wails followed after them – some angry, some desperate, some filled with indescribable emotions – and it was all Cornelius could do to ignore them.  The Dementors finally paused and stopped at the very last cell of the wing.  It was a large cell, and of the highest-level security.

Looking hard into the cell, Cornelius found himself staring into the dark eyes of one Sirius Black.

The look in Black's eyes was…pale, in comparison with what Cornelius had seen in those eyes not more than four years ago.  Four years ago, when Cornelius had first met the young man, he had had bright eyes, full of fierce intelligence and vivid energy.  The second and last time Cornelius had seen the man – a few hours prior to his trial that sent him here – he had a dull, lead expression.  The eyes were cold and abandoned, bitter and aloof in their guilt.

But Black's were not like those of the others prisoners – they were not glazed and unfocused, they were not haphazard in the direction they saw – but they were directed right at him, right into his own eyes, looking and seeing and wondering what he was doing there.

Clearing his throat, Cornelius addressed the younger man.  "Black."

After a moment, Cornelius was almost sure that he had imagined the sanity of the young man and was about to sigh and leave, when Black replied.  "Fudge."

Cornelius glanced at Black sharply, his eyes narrowed slightly.  "You seem to be taking the rigors of Azkaban in fine order."

Black laughed, and the sound sent shivers up Cornelius' spine.  The laugh was just as cold and dead as the man's eyes.  "I wouldn't call it 'taking it in fine order,' Fudge."  The voice was ragged, cracking with the dry throat and years having gone without usage.

"Tell me, then," Cornelius said, afraid, but curious….  Dumbledore would have to be informed of this.  "How have to managed to stay sane, Black?"

"Sane?"  There was a strange tone in Black's voice now, as he repeated that word to himself.  "Sane.  I'm innocent, that's why, Fudge."

Cornelius took in a sharp breath, and stiffened.  Innocent!  Black was as guilty as anyone else in that prison, and he more than anyone else in there deserved Azkaban.  Innocent indeed!

"You were a spy of the Dark Lord.  You revealed the location of Lily and James Potter to him.  You orphaned your own godson, and would have killed him, had the chance presented itself."

"Harry," Black muttered breathlessly, and Cornelius felt bile rise in his throat at the expression Black's pale face wore now – a look of longing, wild and uncontrollable….

"The boy is protected from you," Cornelius warned, urged by a sense of fear for the boy's protection.  "You cannot reach the boy."

"Who is his caretaker?"

Pausing, wondering if it was an intelligent idea to reveal the fact to the prisoner, Fudge sighed deeply, and said, "His aunt and uncle."

"What?" Black snapped, his eyes wide.  "His aunt and uncle?  Those sorry excuses for muggles?"

"Calm down, Black, I'm warning you…."

"How could you have left him there?" Black hissed, his eyes darkening in their fury.  "How could Dumbledore have left him there?  He knows – Remus knows – Lily's sister hates magic –  "

"And you think you would have done better, then?" Cornelius shot back in a hurry, trying to defend his position in the matter.  "Would you rather have had us give him to you, Black?  You, the traitor who would snap the child's neck as soon as you had him in your hands?  You, who would have tossed him into the sea the moment you found a cliff?  Is that what you wanted for him, Black?"

This seemed to deflate Black's anger, and he relaxed in his seated position, his growing lidded and their gaze directed on the floor.  "I'm innocent," Black replied mulishly.

"In your own muddled mind," Cornelius said indignantly.  "I have far more important matters to settle than speaking with you, Black."

He stood brusquely, fixing his jacket and top hat firmly on his head, and spared a last look and the sullen man.  He looked away from the vile creature behind the bars, and something about the man's rather childish demeanor softened him enough to make admissions.  He sighed.

"You're right, Black," he murmured after a moment.  "I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, leaving the boy with the muggles.  A boy of such powerful blood should not be left in the care of those utterly without.  No matter right now – the child somehow escaped the wards early this morning, and the entire Ministry is out there, trying to find him.  I don't know why I ever wasted my time here."

Cornelius turned to the Dementors, nodded, and gruffly walked away, and he desperately tried to ignore the feeling that those dead eyes were following him as he did so.

***

Nightmares were common in Azkaban.

_No…._

In Azkaban, there was no one who was left unscarred by the traumas of their worst experiences relived.

_Please, stop…._

In Azkaban, the prisoners were tortured with the torture they themselves inflicted on others.

_James…._

In Azkaban, nothing was reality but their delusions.

_Lily…._

In Azkaban, people wretchedly lived on as they wasted away.

_No…._

In Azkaban, the hardest part of their punishment was being alive.

_No…._

Nightmares were common in Azkaban.

_Harry…._

**in azkaban**

**||**

**end**


	2. the daily prophet

**chapter II**

**||**

**the daily prophet**

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk in his round office, peering closely through his half-moon glasses at the newspaper spread before him early in the morning. It was the_ Daily Prophet_, the most widely-read newspaper in England's magical world. It wasn't quite always accurate or honest – no media was – but in this case, it had quite the interesting article.

Albus reached for the mug of tea on his desk, holding it with both hands, and bring it to his mouth to take a tentative sip.

Any second now….

The door suddenly burst open, and three people bustled in without preamble: Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin. They all looked pale, gasping for breath, Albus observed. They had obviously run all the way from their offices to his.

"Albus," Minerva said, abruptly sitting into a seat in front of his desk. "Is it true?"

Albus nodded quietly. "It is. Young Mr. Potter has certainly wandered past my wards. He is nowhere within the boundaries."

There was a long, dreadful silence, in which Albus aptly took the time to blow at his tea and take another sip.

"The little fool," Severus said, his voice lined with disbelieving fury. "That fool is going to get himself killed…." Severus' awareness seemed to snap back into place. "The Death Eaters, Albus! You know they won't sit still when they find out – which they most certainly have after this! They won't rest until they find him and…."

Albus nodded gravely. Yes, the boy was in great danger. He looked over at Remus Lupin, the only one who was silent. Raising an eyebrow at the young man, Albus prompted him with "Remus…?"

Remus' blue eyes were clouded with worry. "Albus…is it true what the article said? The speculation?"

Albus sighed, putting down the mug of tea, and idly knitting his fingers together. "Possibly, Remus. Quite possibly." He sat up now, looking at each person directly in the eyes. He made it quite clear that he was going to say something very serious.

"We must find him right away. The Ministry of Magic is sending out its best Aurors and agents to find him, but we need as many people as possible to help. The former Death Eaters will want to find him to avenge for their master, and we must not let that happen – if they had not been the ones to kidnap him in the first place. Minerva, if you could call upon the other professors. Cancel all studies, and send the teachers, and the Head Boy and Head Girl to search. Remus, talk to any Ministry officials you can find and try to gather as much information as you can. Severus – "

"I know my duty," Severus interrupted curtly, and abruptly swept away.

After a moment, Minerva nodded, stood, and left after Severus. Remus was still blankly staring at Albus, a deep regret surfacing in his eyes. Eventually Remus sensed the eyes on him and looked slightly apologetic.

"I didn't want this life for him, Albus," he tried to explain weakly, after a moment, gesturing vaguely with his hands to the newspaper article.

"None of us did, Remus," Albus replied gently. "But the sooner we find him, the better it will be. I will not send him back to his relatives again. He's obviously not very happy there, if he would wander off with a stranger."

Remus snapped his head up. "Then who will raise him? His parents are dead. His relatives are uncaring. His _godfather_ is out of the question." Remus spat out the word godfather, as if his mouth constricted at the thought of forming the word.

Albus didn't answer, but steadily kept his gaze on the werewolf. Finally, "We will see when the time comes, Remus. Our first priority is to find him."

Remus nodded, and left, Albus staring after him. When the young man was gone, Albus turned to his fire. Throwing in some powder, he called out, "Cornelius Fudge!"

Fudge's portly face appeared in the fire, and Albus regarded him with a slight smile. Fudge barely looked up from the papers he was shuffling through on his desk to nod at him. "How are you, Cornelius?"

"How do you think I'm doing, Dumbledore?" Fudge replied, disgruntled. "It's only been a day and I'm losing my mind. Of course, that article in the _Daily Prophet_ wasn't any help at all, either – I've gotten twenty-one howlers in the past hour alone, and over half of them were from foreign countries."

"Really now?"

"Yes, they can't seem to believe that the Ministry lost the most famous person in the magical world. Never mind that it was completely the boy's own fault, wandering out like that…."

"He's merely a boy, Fudge. And if Ms. Skeeter's article is true, then the boy had very good reason to want to leave."

Fudge gave a great heave of a sigh. "Well, no matter. We'll find him and then he'll have to go back."

Albus shook his head. "No, Cornelius, I'd rather not have him sent back there. I want him to stay at Hogwarts, under the care of the professors here."

Fudge glanced up from his papers, stopping the shuffling. "You're kidding, Dumbledore, the Hogwarts staff…?"

"We will work it out later, Cornelius," Albus replied. "How were your rounds of Azkaban?"

Cornelius shuddered at the words, but then said, "Oh yes, it was fine, fine. Everything is going orderly, the Dementors are doing their job right…. But there was one strange case."

"Oh?"

"Yes, Sirius Black, it was." Cornelius' brows furrowed in thought. "He was very…well, he was sane, Dumbledore. After three years in there – " he paused, struggling for the right words " – no one's lasted that long, Dumbledore. It's strange." Fudge paused, in thought. "He also mentioned a few times that he was innocent. When he found out that young Potter had been placed under the care of his aunt and uncle, he became very angry, though."

Albus frowned at this information, and took a steady sip of his tea, staring hard into the fire.

Fudge glanced up uncertainly. "You don't think Crouch could've made a mistake, do you, Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore frowned, deep in thought. "Mr.Black was given a trial. However, I am unaware of the state of mind he was in during it…."

"It wouldn't make a difference. We know he was the Secret Keeper." Fudge paused a bit longer, before shrugging and going back to his papers. "If you don't mind, Dumbledore, I've got quite a bit of work to do. I will speak with you after we have found the Potter boy."

With that, Cornelius' head disappeared from the fire.

Albus turned back to his desk, sighing petulantly. The sooner the boy was found, the better for _everyone_.

**the daily prophet**

**||**

**end**

**A/N**: Hm, not that much actually content in this chapter, just shows the concern and introduces the situation. Next chapter you get to see little Harry and the real story on his leaving Privet Drive. This is where the fun starts. Believe it or not, this IS going to be a humor fic. I think. I've had a horrible start on that, though. As always, this fic is totally dedicated to Christy!

If you would like to be notified of any updates to my fan fiction, please leave your e-mail address in a review or e-mail me so I can add you to my mailing list. Thanks!

~ Jedi Cosmos ~

Reviewers:

neutral – I'm glad you think I have the personalities down well :) It took a minute for me to get into the right mindset. Fudge is actually a fun character to write as, I think. Can't wait to someone else similar to him… hahaha, he starts out the next chapter. And yes, we do see a lot of Remus in here. Actually, I think we'll come across many familiar names and faces in this fic. Many. Argh. More personalities to try to get into.

Katzztar – Hehe, thanks for that. I usually take a long time to update, but not because I'm writing any better than usual (THAT's rare) but because I'm either trying to figure out what direction would be the best choice, whether or not I need to change something, or just because I'm lazy. Haha. So far I think I have a good record with "Hide & Seek" only a week between updates…. Let's hope it stays that way….

Alexa Black – Thanks! Yup, Phoenix Gate has been updated. I'm going to have more posts more often, but shorter chapters. It's just easier. Well, anyway, today's post is 10 pages. Oh well. Thanks for reading my fics :)

WeasleyTwinsLover1112 – Thank you! I aimed for darkness, but I never thought of it as scary. Hehe, sounds good :)

me – well, I appreciate your review all the same! Please, if you feel that I can improve my writing somehow, don't refrain. I won't say you've given me a bad review ;) I'd appreciate comments on how to improve my writing a lot!

clara200 – Thanks!

Shinigami – Dumbledore's definitely going to protect Harry, as always. Snape does play a role, as do many characters. Thanks for the review!

Von – Short is what I'm sticking to from now on ^^() I tried longer chapters for one fic, but I just can't pump them out very fast. So I'm sticking to short weekly chapters :) LOL, Sirius would do that, wouldn't he? Thanks for the review!

Moonywolf – Thanks! It will be several chapters, too….

(no name given) -- Thanks!

silverkonekotsukari – thanks!

Moonlight – lol, thank you for your enthusiasm. I appreciate it! Thanks!

MaggieDB – You'll see Sirius again soon, I think. You see Harry in either chapter 3 or 4! Thanks for the review!

Giesbrecht – Thank you very much :D And yup! I got more soon!

evil spapple pie – You'll find out what's up with Harry soon. Thanks for the review!

(no name given) – Here's more :)

Mrs. Moony – Thanks!

littleginblossom – Thank you!

asdf – Updated :) And will be again, soon….

Addie Riddle – Aw, thank you! I'm glad you like it! It'd be pretty hard to make myself keep writing if people didn't. I don't write for myself, I write so others can enjoy it, so hearing this is great! Thank you!

Liar – Thanks! I hope it'll be humor…. But I can definitely say it'll have a lot of humorous overtones.

Thanks! And REVIEW! *goes on an ego trip* ;D


	3. the greeneyed monster

**chapter 3**

**||**

**the green-eyed monster**

Gilderoy Lockhart was whistling as he strolled down the streets, bouncing a little on every other step he took.  The alley was decidedly dim and gritty, but well worth it for the story he had gotten.  Fighting werewolves.  That _always_ made for a great heroic adventure.

He was still careful not to touch any surface and held his robes up a little so they wouldn't sweep on the ground and the hems wouldn't get soiled.  He had paid a good sum of galleons for this set of lovely cerulean blue robes, and by Merlin, he was not about to let them get filthy!

Gilderoy stopped scrunching his nose as he walked, as his thought faded from the junk that lined the alleys to happier things, like how in a few minutes he'd be at his comfortable apartment and would be able to wrap his hair into curlers for the night.  Smiling contentedly once again, he continued down the alley to where there was a nice Apparating point – very clear of distractions and he'd also be able to Apparate right by his home –

There was a sudden whimper in the clear, cool air of the night, and Gilderoy stopped in his tracks.  _Oh, no!_ he thought frantically, his bodily functions becoming nonexistent in an extremely short span of time.  _Danger!  What do I do, what do I do?_  He paused to ponder the answer for only a moment before he found the best one: _Run_.

So he did, and he ran at a fast pace, as well – quite the feat for one running while holding his robes up so the hems wouldn't get messy, Gilderoy thought proudly.  After dodging into another alley, Gilderoy stopped again, pressing himself close to the wall, trying to calm his breathing, as he strained to listen clearly.  If he heard that whimper again, he had to make sure he was far enough –

"Mrrr!"

He heard it!  Gilderoy leaned out into the main alley, looking back in the direction he had come from.  Hadn't the sound been further away before…?

"Mrrrrrr!"

Gilderoy froze.  The sound was _awfully_ close by….

Slowly, he turned.

There was nothing there.

Without knowing that he had been holding a breath, Gilderoy released it and gulped down air.  He smiled (very charmingly) to himself and slouched against the wall, resting for a moment before he felt a sharp kick to his shins.

"MRRRR!"

Looking down, all Gilderoy saw was a pair of large green jewel looking in his direction before screaming shrilly and backing out of the interstice.  Unfortunately, he forgot to hold up his robes and tripped over them while doing so, flat on his behind.

His eyes were wide with horror as he trembled, looking fearfully into the abyss, watching as what would become the object of his doom was slowly approaching.  He shut his eyes tight and began to pray his final prayer, one he had composed and memorized just in case such a time to use it had ever arisen.  Before he could recite it to himself, he felt another sharp pain race through his other shin.

"_MRRRR_!"

"Please don't kill me," he wailed miserably, still not looking.  He tried to get up from his sitting position, but instead fell on his back and rolled over, trying very hard to imitate those animals – ostriches, were they? – by burying his head firmly into the earth.  Sadly, it didn't work – although not for lack of trying.  Gilderoy certainly felt dazed by the last time he tried to dig his head into the ground to hide from the green-eyed monster.

Eventually (after seven minutes or so), Gilderoy gave up on this tactic.  After getting too dizzy to raise his head again, he went back to whimpering.  He wasn't looking, but a moment later he felt something pet his head awkwardly.

"NOOO," he bawled, bursting out into a fresh new wave of sobs, "anything but the hair…."

"Mrrrr?"

"_Please_, not the hair…."

"Mrrr…."

After another few seconds (three minutes) of silence, Gilderoy heard what sounded like an exasperated "Mrrr!" as he felt something wallop him in the shoulder.

"Ow!"

"MRR!"

Gilderoy stayed still again, not knowing how to reply, and still smarting from the kick to his shoulder.  He had finally calmed his breathing, although still trembling, and was now hoping his death would be easy and swift.  After a moment though, his thoughts wandered, and he indignantly dismissed the notion that the monster wouldn't be careful while killing him, so as not to mar his features.  He was just too good-looking for anyone to do that, even a stupid little monster that lived in an alleyway and wailed "mrrr" over and over again!

He felt and heard something plop down next to him, and heard a slight sniffling sound.  "_Mrrr_," came the piteous wail.

Gilderoy froze again.  Was this the ritual performed before being eaten?  He stayed still pondering what this sniffling sound was, not realizing that he fell asleep at one point.  Waking up, Gilderoy found that the sniffling sound was gone, but he could still feel someone near him, shifting and restless.

Gathering up the last of his courage, feeling that monster or no monster, it was simply taking too long to get eaten – he opened his eyes and warily turned around.

To his utter surprise, Gilderoy found himself staring not at a monster, but a little boy, sitting beside him with a rather frustrated expression upon his childishly graceful features, his hands bound behind his back and his feet together by a thick rope, his mouth tightly covered with a strip of black cloth.

Peering closer, Gilderoy was appalled to find that anyone had wasted such good robe material to gag someone.  The material was _much_ better put to use as the lining of an Aora designer cloak –

"Mrr!"

Oh yes, the child.  Gilderoy, wobbling, sat up and undid the binds on the child.

"Thank you," the little boy said politely, his green eyes shining up at Gilderoy with gratitude.  He suddenly looked sheepish.  "Er… 'm sowee if I scared you…."

"You'd do well to be sorry," Gilderoy said indignantly to the child, "I messed up my hair and got dirt all over myself because of you!"

"Sorry," the child repeated meekly.  There was a moment of silence before a pink tinge lit the child's dirty cheeks and he bit his lip slightly, fighting a smile.

"What?" Gilderoy asked irritably, trying to pat his hair down.

The little boy giggled shyly.  "You're funny."  At Gilderoy's bewildered expression, he grinned up in a silly fashion, and imitating Gilderoy's earlier panicked tone, quoted, " 'Nooo, not the hair!  Anything but the hair!' "

Gilderoy stared at the child before giving a hearty laugh.  "I know, I know," he said, sounding pompously proud of himself, "it _was_ very brave of me to defend my hair, wasn't it?"

Now Gilderoy was laughing as the little boy watched with a rather blank look on his face.  The child didn't really find anything brave about the man's actions; rather, he was becoming more and more convinced that this man was one of those crazy people that his uncle had always been ranting about.

"So!" Gilderoy said, once he was done congratulating himself on his true courage, "where to, my boy?"

"Er," the child replied, very uncertainly twisting the edges of his sleeves.  "I dunno…."

"Excuse me?"

"My new 'sitter came to get me," the boy said, his big eyes looking up.

"And then?" Gilderoy prompted when the boy said nothing more.

"Umm, he brought me here and said…he said…"

"Yes?"

"I was a nap…napped.  And I was gonna be sac – cry…cried to the worstest person in all of EDERNIDY!"

Gilderoy stared blankly for a moment before remembering that the child couldn't have been older than four, and thought for a moment, before he corrected the child's sentence.  "You mean he said you were _kidnapped_, and would be _sacrificed_ to the evilest _dark_ _lord_ of all _eternity_."

The little boy shrugged, figuring it all meant the same thing.

"Oh.  Well then."  Gilderoy took in all this information, making sure that he had a concerned look to him as he listened to the poor boy's story.  When the boy was done, and he had processed the happenings, he nodded a few times, before standing and dusting himself off.  "Well, that's awfully sad m' boy.  Hope you find your way back."  He started walking up the alleyway, where the Apparation point was, glancing at his watch.  He'd lost an hour of his revitalizing sleep!  And all this grime would take hours of scrubbing to get out….

The sound of softly pattering feet behind him, and a small hand tugged at his cerulean blue robes.  "Um, mister…I dunno the way home.  Can I come wid you, till I find home?"

Gilderoy paused, in deep thought.  Having a child around would mean less time for him.  It would mean taking care of a child.  The thought itself had horrible implications rolling around in Gilderoy's mind.

But…taking in a poor, lost little child was what heroes did, right?  It showed they were all merciful and sympathetic and caring, and all those things that women seemed to swoon over, qualities all good gentlemen seemed to have.

"I'll be good, I swear!"

Those big green eyes bored into him.

Gilderoy sighed.

**the green-eyed monster**

**||**

**end**

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to all the reviewers.  My deep apologies and regrets – this chapter wasn't very funny.  Oh well, I tried.  Hope you liked it anyway.  Happy new year!

If you would like to be notified of new chapters or updates for my fan fiction, please leave your e-mail address in a review or e-mail me so I can add you to my mailing list.  Thanks!

~ Jedi Cosmos ~


	4. demon & dragon

**Story Timeline  
**Chapter I takes place the morning the Ministry discovers Harry gone (Halloween Day/Day One).  
Chapter II also takes place the morning the Ministry discovers Harry gone, though a few hours after Chapter I (Halloween Day/Day One).  
Chapter III takes place the night the Ministry discovers Harry gone (Halloween Night/Day One).  
**Chapter IV** also takes place the night the Ministry discovers Harry gone, though an hour or so after Chapter III (Halloween Night/Day One)

* * *

**chapter IV**

****

**demon & dragon**

The house elf held the clothes out before her as she bowed, nose touching the floor. Lucius Malfoy took them from her, noticing vaguely the tremor that he could feel even through the folds of silk. He waved her away, noting the way it scurried with distaste, and draped his robes on, watching himself in the mirror as he did so. _Excellent_. And indeed he looked excellent; crisp and powerful. Such were the enhancements good clothing made. Then again, he thought disdainfully as he left his room, not even proper clothing could make a better wizard out of Arthur Weasley.

He shut the grand door behind him softly, and slowly walked through the halls of his manor, enjoying the rhythmic _clicks_ the soles of his soft leather boots made when they hit the floor. Narcissa had chosen particularly well this time for him. He must remember to let her know. Going down the curved stairs and into the richly furnished study, he found his wife seated there, opening the evening post.

"Anything important?" he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder and glancing quickly at Killer, their falcon, which their son had so bluntly named. Narcissa wordlessly handed Lucius the _Daily Prophet_.

_POTTER CHILD MISSING_, read the headline. Lucius raised an elegant eyebrow, and sat beside Narcissa, reading further.

_It has just been reported to authorities this morning that Harry James Potter, age three, has been kidnapped, reports Rita Skeeter,_ Daily Prophet _correspondent._

_Harry Potter had been taken in by his muggle relatives at the age of one, after the devastating attack to his family at Godric's Hollow. Being the only survivor and the destroyer of the Dark Lord, more than enough families with respectable backrounds were willing to take the child in. Albus Dumbledore, current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was left in charge of the child's safety, and left him to his muggle aunt and uncle, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, in a safe location indisposed to anyone but the Minister, high-clearance Aurors, and Dumbledore himself._

_Albus Dumbledore, a respected member of the community as well as a panel of the Wizengamot, also has an Order of Merlin, First Class. However, one must question the wisdom of his choice of guardians for the savior of the magical world. A witch wishing to remain anonymous told the Prophet that "Just a few days ago, I was shopping down in London, and had stopped by a bookstore to pick up a copy of Household Pests by Gilderoy Lockhart. I saw a boy who had a curious scar, and to my delight, thought it might be the Boy-Who-Lived. I followed, but then a big hulking fellow – his uncle – took the child by his arm and rushed him along. He was being terribly mean to the boy, calling him names and telling him he was worthless, that he should have been drowned rather than cause trouble to him. It was downright horrible, no proper adult should tell things like that to a child."_

_As far as this_ Daily Prophet _correspondent is concerned, Harry Potter should be removed from the care of his aunt and uncle. Furthermore, the Ministry should look into exactly how and why Potter was removed from the premises of his home. Did he run away, or did his guardians kick him out? The significance of Potter being kidnapped on Halloween day, the third anniversary of his parents' deaths and the disappearance of You-Know-Who, also points to a kidnapping arranged by former Death Eaters that the Ministry did not catch after the Dark Lord's reign. Dumbledore has a lot to answer for, as he is the chief of the boy's security, and he had better be getting those answers ready._

Lucius' eyebrow raised higher and higher with each passing revelation. So the Potter boy had been abused, to some extent? Fascinating, fascinating....

"I feel a bit sorry," Narcissa said briskly, shifting through other papers, but speaking once she saw that her husband had finished.

"For the boy?"

"He's only four."

Lucius snorted, then stood, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind and nuzzling his nose into her blond hair. It smelled of lavender. "Only four? My dear, he destroyed our master at the age of one. There is no pity to be taken upon him."

She didn't answer, and he sighed, realizing that she was put off. "Wormtail will bring him to me and you can pamper him all you want."

"Before you kill him." Narcissa shook her head, and turned to face Lucius, leaning into his embrace as she brought her eyes to gaze into his. "I don't want you to kill him, Lucius."

Lucius then sighed, and shook his head. "If he will not mold into a follower of the Dark Lord, we will have no other alternative."

Narcissa lowered her face and pressed herself into his chest. In a pacified tone, she said slowly, "Yes, that is what we want. Be back as soon as you can, my aunt is expecting us over for the feast tonight."

* * *

"Draco?"

Lucius walked into his son's room, taking in the charming sight of the little boy. He was small, as any four-year-old might be, and had the same white-blond hair and gray-blue eyes of his father. Lucius felt a foreign emotion swelling with him, and as soon as he realized it for what it was, he squashed it viciously.

"Yes, Father?" the little boy drawled. He was leisurely lying on his bed, flipping through a picture book. He had several stuffed animals and toys arranged around him, and the large room was full of little trinkets and baubles.

"I came by to say hello," Lucius said, looking over the boy to see if he was in any way troubled. Seeing that the boy was fine as ever, he added, "I will be meeting some friends tonight." He turned to leave, but stopped when he saw Draco hurl his picture book at him out of the corner of his eye. Luckily it missed and hit the door frame instead.

"But Mother said you'd tell me a story!" the boy screeched, up on his feet, somehow managing to stay balanced on the soft mattress of the bed, despite knocking down all the stuffed animals. "I WANT TO HEAR A STORY!"

Lucius was forced to remember why he worshipped Narcissa for her strength; not only was she a beautiful and powerful witch, she was able to handle Draco with the simplest of ease.

"Very well," he said stiffly. Immediately, the boy quieted and sat patiently, waiting to hear it. Lucius tentatively sat beside him on the bed, and Draco crawled into his lap. Not quite knowing what to do about it, he let it pass, and settled on loosely embracing the boy. "What story do you want to hear?"

Draco looked up at him earnestly – _Oh no you don't,_ Lucius thought, crushing up that rising emotion he hated so much, the one that Narcissa fondly referred to as fatherly love, though he himself called it foolish sap. "Father, I want to hear the story of the Boy-Who-Lived!"

Silence rang supreme in the wake of those words. Lucius stared at his son with no little disbelief, and took moments to collect himself enough to summon Narcissa to the room. His wife, upon seeing him with so little composure, frowned. "What's wrong, dear?"

Turning away from Draco, who was now playing uninterestedly with the sleeve of his father's robes, he hissed to Narcissa, "Did you put that silly idea in his head?"

She looked completely nonplussed of what he was talking about.

"He wants to hear the story of the Boy-Who-Lived," he said in a hushed manner.

Narcissa blinked, paused, then blinked again, before uncharacteristically shrugging her shoulders. "I guess you'll just have to tell him that story, then." She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she walked away, and Lucius listened to her footsteps as they faded away.

He then turned to his son, and watched the child. Draco was a bundle of mystery to Lucius. As a man who simply did not remember what it was to be so young, he did not know what to expect from his son – and he absolutely hated that. "Draco?"

"Are you going to tell the story, now?" Draco looked up with such trusting, gray-blue eyes...

_Nooooooooooo_, Lucius' inner-voice cried as the feeling of fatherly love finally overwhelmed him. "Yes, I will, Draco." He took a deep breath, thinking fast, and started. "Once there was a little boy named Harry Potter. He was an evil, devious little boy and when the Dark Lord – the good guy, Draco, remember? – came to put away his evil, equally devious parents, Harry Potter lived and through his evilness, destroyed the Dark Lord. All the other evil, devious people in the magical world made him their hero, and the good guys – like us, remember? – they have to wait until the Dark Lord rises again to save the world from the evil Harry Potter and his evil followers."

Draco was silent after the brief telling, resting his small head against his father. He shifted slightly, and looked up into his father's eyes, before saying, "That was really dumb, Father. Can you tell the real thing now?"

Lucius felt frustration well in him. Why wouldn't Draco just be a normal child and be stupid and naive like the rest of them, so he could just go away and meet Wormtail already? "That was the real 'thing', Draco."

Draco looked suspicious. "Then why is the Dark Lord called the Dark Lord if he's the good guy?"

"Misconception," Lucius brushed off swiftly, sounding very matter-of-fact to little Draco, and even to his own ears.

"Why's Harry Potter so famous, if he's a bad boy?" Draco shot.

"He should have died," Lucius explained, losing patience. "By all accounts, Draco, the boy should be dead right now, but he's not, and that's never happened before. So he's famous."

"Ohhh," Draco nodded sagely, "I see."

Lucius gave another soft snort – _Back, I say_, he thought at the foolish sap that he was feeling. "Well, Draco, I had best be off. I cannot be any later than I already – "

"NOOOOOO!" Draco all but shrieked, latching himself onto his father's neck so quickly that Lucius felt his breath leave him. "Take me with you!"

"No, Draco," Lucius said, trying to pry his son off of him – though it wasn't working, because Draco just kept tightening his grip and he was beginning to feel a little stressed for air at that point.

"Nooooo!"

* * *

Lucius moodily trudged through the crowd at the Hog's Head, tugging along at Draco's hand as he searched for a sign of Wormtail. "Come along, Draco."

Draco followed his father dutifully, looking around with wide eyes. He had never been brought here before, Lucius noted idly, glancing at his son. The little head bobbed with every haphazard step, and too busy looking around to watch his feet, he nearly fell more than once. Lucius felt a pang of guilt for not noticing before crouching to lift Draco up. The boy immediately hugged his neck and tucked his chin onto his father's shoulder, staying still with wide eyes still observing.

A figure with a pale pink balaclava draped over their head raised a hand to Lucius and waved him over. Lucius scowled, before seating himself in a chair, and pulling Draco into his lap. "You're pathetically cheap, Wormtail."

"S-sorry," the figure said meekly. "The family I'm staying with doesn't have m-much money, I could o-only afford here."

"Then make it quick," Lucius snapped. "I wish to remove my son and myself from the stench of this place as soon as possible. Where is the boy?"

Wormtail shuddered at Lucius' tone. "I-I left him in an alley a few minutes ago, it's n-n-near here. W-would you like a d-drink before getting him?"

"No," Lucius said coldly, standing up, Draco in his arms. "Lead me to him."

Wormtail stumbled to stand, keeping the pink balaclava steady to his head, and guided Lucius out of the Hog's Head. Lucius held Draco closer when his son shivered slightly in the cool night air, and followed after the stout animagus.

"Father, where are we going?" came Draco's little voice. He had been watching the lights of Hogsmeade fade as they walked further and further into the dark alleys.

"We're picking someone up, Draco," Lucius said breezily. "The Boy-Who-Lived will be coming to stay with us for a while."

Draco immediately perked up with excitement. "Really?" he asked, sounding amazed. "Can he stay in my room? I promise I'll share all my toys this time!"

"We'll see, Draco," Lucius said sternly, vaguely realizing that his son was probably very lonely most of the time, being alone in the large Malfoy manner. He'd have to fix that somehow. Turning his attention back to Wormtail, who he noticed was looking a bit lost even though his face wasn't visible, he demanded, "What is wrong, Wormtail?"

The now-trembling figure turned to face him. "I-I-I had left h-him here! H-he w-was tied up – couldn't h-have g-gotten away!"

Lucius froze. He took several deep, steadying breaths before speaking. "Do you mean to tell me," he hissed, "that you have lost the Boy-Who-Lived?"

Wormtail wailed miserably in reply.

"Find him!" Lucius roared at the cowering man. "Find him and bring him straight to me, or I will come after you and finish what your former friends should have done to you years ago!" Pulling his cloak around his form and that of Draco's, Lucius Malfoy apparated back to Malfoy Manor in a towering rage.

**demon & dragon**

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**end**

* * *

**A/N**_: _There we go. The timeline shall now be featured in every chapter at the top for your convenience. I go out of chronological order on purpose, just so you know, I feel it creates a certain effect that I'm going for with this fic. I like going back and filling in the pieces as it goes along.

And yes, both this and _Catch_ will definitely be continued.__

I really appreciate all your patience and I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting for so long. It was never my intention to do so, but…well, you all know about Darth Real Life. Ha. I'm such a dork. Anyway. For those of you who didn't think it was funny to hand poor Harry over to Gilderoy…you're going to hate me soon =9

Notes about the chapter: Wormtail did not leave Harry alone for long, and Gilderoy just happened to be leaving Hogsmeade as Wormtail entered the Hog's Head to wait for Lucius.  
  
I wrote Lucius as a caring father, because that's the way I see him, despite his cold personality. Draco is proven to be very loyal to his father in the books, and I think that Lucius must have been a good father to him to achieve that, despite being misleading about the truths of being a Death Eater. I also wrote Narcissa as what I hope came off to be a woman who knows firmly what side she's on, despite her soft spot for children – namely the reason she doesn't want Lucius to kill Harry but rather raise him their own way. She has no ambiance towards the Potters or their cause, but as a mother herself would not want to subject one so young to such suffering.

OH! And lastly, I have a shameless plug; wrote a one-shot called _To Be a Death Eater, You Must Be…_ and it's supposed to be funny but it's not. It'd be nice if you read and told me what you thought anyway :)

Jedi Cosmos


	5. lucidity

**Story Timeline**  
Chapter I takes place the morning the Ministry discovers Harry gone (Halloween Day/Day One).  
Chapter II also takes place the morning the Ministry discovers Harry gone, though a few hours after Chapter I (Halloween Day/Day One).  
Chapter III takes place the night the Ministry discovers Harry gone (Halloween Night/Day One).  
Chapter IV also takes place the night the Ministry discovers Harry gone, though an hour or so after Chapter III (Halloween Night/Day One).  
**Chapter V** takes place the day before the Ministry discovers Harry gone (Hallow's Eve).

* * *

**chapter V**

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**lucidity**

_"Lily, it's him! Take Harry and go!"_

Green light....

_"James!"_

Terrible laughter....

_"Give the boy to me, and you will be spared...."_

Vain yells....

_"Please, take me instead, leave him alone...."_

A shrill voice....

_"Move aside, you silly girl...."_

A dying invocation....

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

Pain, darkness...then nothing....

* * *

Harry Potter of Number Four Privet Drive woke in the darkness, brought his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms tightly around them, shivering in the cold. The October night was cool and his thin blanket didn't do much to keep him warm. He shuddered even more fiercely when flashes of his dream assaulted his mind yet again – dying screams, high-pitched laughter – and most abundant – green light. He was breathing hard, and muffled his panting by turning so that his face was buried into the ragged pillow. He missed his parents.

He fought hard to remember the vision of his mothers' face. She was very pretty, Harry knew, with blurred features, dark red hair that he had loved to grip when he was a baby. She had the same almond-shaped eyes he had, and was always so nice to him…. His father had had a deep voice, and always carried him around and played with him and kept him warm…. He missed them _so_ much….

Uncle Vernon had given him a lot of yard work to do the day before, and his arms and back were still aching from all of it. He had painted the fence, weeded all of Aunt Petunia's dying flower beds, and raked the leaves. He had scrubbed the floors clean and dusted. Soon, Aunt Petunia had told him just the night before, he'd be old enough to mow the lawn and wash the dishes and laundry, too, then later cook. He wished he wouldn't have to, because he didn't like the work he was doing much as it was anyway and wasn't quite excited at the prospect of making that list even longer.

It was close to the time when Aunt Petunia would come to wake him up. He had found an old clock of Dudley's, one with its glass broken – his cousin had chucked against a door – had taken it without anyone noticing, and managed to fix it enough to work. It was six fifty in the morning.

He had already decided something important the night before though. He had thought about it hard as he was tugging weeds out of Number Four's flower beds. Today was the day he would finally ask Aunt Petunia about why everything had started looking so…blobby. His vision had been getting worse and worse by the day, until he realized that it couldn't have been normal, and started getting concerned.

Sure enough, ten minutes later, he heard his aunt stomping down the stairs, then pounding on the cupboard door, shrieking at him to get up. He did so, sighing, and pulled on a pair of Dudley's old jeans and a baggy shirt, trying not to hit his head in the cramped space. Harry left the cupboard, squinting as the sunlight pouring from the windows reached his eyes.

"Aunt Petunia," he said tentatively, as he entered the kitchen, watching her begin preparing breakfast for Dudley, though he couldn't quite make out what it was. How irritating this was becoming! "Er…I…My eyes are all funny…."

"What do you mean?" she snapped, not looking at him as she buttered the pan. "And comb your hair, for goodness sake, you miserable boy. What the neighbors must think when they see you…."

"Everything looks like…fuzzy," he explained, squinting at her, ignoring the comments on his hair. "S'not normal, is it? Am I going to go blind?"

Petunia turned the stove on before turning to glare at her nephew, taking in his straining eyes and crinkled nose, his unfocused expression. She remembered vaguely how that _awful_ boy that _she_ had married had worn thick glasses, and came to the exasperating conclusion that the boy would need glasses as well. "Vernon!"

Harry watched as another blob entered the room, this one much bigger than any of the other blobs he could see outlines of. "What's he done this time, Petunia?" He then automatically barked at Harry, "You need another haircut!"

"He can't see right," Aunt Petunia told his Uncle Vernon, now in the process of cracking eggs into the pan and adding salt. "He'll need glasses if he's to finish the housework by tonight, since Marge is coming."

Harry's little heart nearly stopped. "Aunt Marge is coming?" he squeaked. "_Tonight_?"

"Yes, she is," Uncle Vernon said, waddling in Harry's direction. "And you better not do any funny stuff, do you understand me, boy?"

"Yessir," he replied, voice hollow. The torture he would have to endure….

"Right then," Vernon said, in a way that would have surprised Harry if he wasn't still petrified in terror at the thought of his Aunt Marge, "We'll go to the nearest Goodwill store and see if they have anything for you." He must have cheered up at the thought of what Aunt Marge would put him through, Harry thought resentfully.

He finally snapped out of it when the smell of scrambled eggs reached his nose, and his stomach gave a hungry rumble. Harry watched as Aunt Petunia called Dudley downstairs again, set the table, and brought over the bacon and toast. Dudley came down – another significantly oversized blob in Harry's vision – and sat down on Harry's other side. "Morning, freak," the slightly older and grossly larger boy said with a yawn. "Morning Dad." He turned to his mother. "When's the food coming, mum, I'm starving!"

Aunt Petunia's face immediately turned into an expression of sappy love. "Coming right up, Diddykins," she simpered as she served Uncle Vernon, Dudley, and herself a plate full of eggs, sausages, bacon, and toast.

She then poured a glass of milk for the three of them, before turning to Harry and giving him a slice of burnt toast, and half of a sausage, along with a glass of lukewarm water. Harry didn't say anything; he was far too used to this treatment anyway, and was so hungry that he didn't even really notice how bad it tasted.

After breakfast, Harry waited quietly for his uncle to get dressed, and Uncle Vernon shoved him into the backseat of the company car beside Dudley before getting in to drive. "We're going up to London," Uncle Vernon explained to Dudley. Then, looking into the rearview mirror and meeting Harry's eyes (not that Harry could see enough to really notice), his tone changed into a spiteful one, and he said, "You're going to get your glasses, boy, while I take Dudley to get him some new clothes. _No funny stuff_."

Harry nodded at the second reminder, though he didn't quite understand what his uncle meant. He didn't bother asking – the first rule of the Dursley household was _don't ask questions_. He was never given an answer anyway, just locked into the cupboard for the remainder of the day, and even though Aunt Marge was coming that night, he didn't want to be locked up again.

When they finally arrived in London, Harry was already feeling miserable – Dudley had spent the whole way poking him in the arms, chest, and legs, and every once in a while smacking him on the head or back while giggling at Harry's flinches. Complaining to Uncle Vernon would hardly have solved anything, so Harry didn't bother trying.

"Here we are, boy," Uncle Vernon said, pulling up to the sidewalk on the busy street. "Get out, and get yourself some glasses. Tell them you don't have any money, and wait outside until we get back."

"Bye, Freak!" Dudley waved enthusiastically.

Harry got out of the car with trepidition, and closed the door with both hands. As soon as he did, Uncle Vernon drove away, tires screeching. It did occur to him more than once that Uncle Vernon might not come back for him, but he figured then that at least maybe if he went to an orphanage they would feed him better, or at least not call him names.

He turned to the Goodwill store, and found it to be as rather small little place. Carefully weaving his way to the entrance, he slowly went in and shut the door behind him.

"Hello, dear," a voice said behind him. Harry spun and looked up; there was a woman crouched beside him, looking at him with gentle eyes. "Are you lost?"

Harry paused for a moment, before shaking his head and looking down. "My uncle left me here. I needa get glasses, 'cause I can't see things."

The woman smiled at him sweetly, and reached out a hand to him. "Well, come on, dear, let's find you something. Are you hungry?"

Harry _was_ very hungry, and said so. When the woman asked if he had eaten anything at all that day, he replied, "Yes, my aunt gave me the burnt toast." He looked around curiously as the woman led him to a chair, lifted him, and sat him down.

There were several articles of clothing hung around the small store, though none of them seemed very normal to Harry – at least, his uncle Vernon wouldn't dare approach any of them. Aunt Petunia might've liked them though, Harry thought, as they looked like colorful dresses or some sort or another, and secretly he felt that they were much better than the hideous frilly garments that his aunt chose to wear. A whole separate area showcased shoes, though most were boots that looked shiny and thick, laced up and hung on racks. There was large mirror in the middle of one wall, cracked and dirty, Harry supposed, since there were lots of dark – moving? – smudges on it. Before he could turn his attention to the silvery trinkets, of sorts that he could never recall before seeing, that littered a table in the back, the woman returned with a sandwich and a glass of juice, which Harry took gratefully and began to eat. The woman sat down, and waited for him to finish, watching him with a rather sad expression on her face.

"What's your name?" Harry asked between a mouthful. She was very pretty; brown hair that hung long around a heart-shaped face, and blue eyes that twinkled in the meager sunlight that happened to filter into the store.

"My name is Samantha Wood," she said, turning away from him and pulling out a box. She smiled at him. "What's yours?"

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, as he finished off his juice.

If possible, the woman looked even more upset than before. Her smile vanished, and she bit her lip as she sifted through the glasses. Harry wondered what could upset her about his name, of all things, but before he could ask, she said, "I knew your parents when they were younger." She was still looking away. "They were friends of my husband. They were good people. You father was very good at Quidditch."

Harry didn't know what to say in reply to that, so he stayed quiet, until the woman had found what she was looking for. Mrs. Wood turned to Harry, grasping a black case in her hand. Setting it down, she took out a pair of simple, round black-framed glasses, and after unfolding them, gently put them in place for Harry.

Suddenly, his vision focused. He could see clear outlines of things. No fuzziness. No uncertainty about what was what. He smiled brilliantly. _No more walking into walls_, he thought, so overjoyed he felt his little heart pulsing faster.

"There you are," Mrs. Wood said to Harry, smiling back at him again, all trace of sadness gone. "Those belonged to…a man who died a while back. You not only have the exact same vision as he did, but you look the same, too." She stood up, gracing Harry with a kiss on the forehead, before lifting him into her arms and carrying him as she went up a staircase that Harry hadn't even noticed. He glowed under the unexpected affection the woman showed to him and smiled up at her. Then again, he thought absently, staring close at the staircase, it had probably blended into the walls too well for him to distinguish without the glasses. He looked around over Mrs. Wood's shoulder with wide eyes.

"Oliver!" Mrs. Wood called. "Oliver, come here!"

With the sound of breaking china, a boy came skidding into Harry's view. He looked not much older than ten, had the same hair as his mother did, though an unquenchable curiosity in his eyes made his whole countenance appear different. The boy looked at Harry interestedly.

"Oliver," Mrs. Wood said, "this is Harry. Could you watch him for a bit till his uncle comes to pick him up?"

The boy nodded cheerfully as his mother put Harry down on the floor beside him, and left. Harry stared at the boy before the other began to talk to him excitedly. He mentioned broomsticks and magic, Harry understood, and knew that if he repeated any of the same words his aunt and uncle would be horrified. The thought made him smile.

"What's your favorite Quidditch team?" Oliver asked, finally stopping his chatter to ask Harry a question.

"Er…" Harry looked uncomfortable at the slightly frantic look in the older boy's eyes. "I dunno what Kuhditch is."

Oliver jaw slackened and he stared at Harry incredulously. "You don't _know_ what Quidditch is?" At the shake of Harry's head, Oliver straightened and fisted his hands. "Come on! I'm going to teach you _all_ about Quidditch!"

**lucidity**

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****

**end**

* * *

**A/N**: Mrs. Wood. Right. Somehow had to connect it to another character, so there we have it. I know in book 4 it mentions Wood dragging Harry to meet his parents before the Cup. And to let you know after book 5 – this still fits as a canon-line fic. Not meant to be AU – you'll see how that all works out =9

Got a good funny chapter coming up soon though, eventually – whoever guesses who the character of that chapter will be by the title "the master overlord" gets to choose a character as obscure as they want to have a feature chapter with. For fun.

Jedi Cosmos


End file.
